Soda Plus School Equals Disaster
by Rosebud5
Summary: When you're Soda, school involves cowboys and Indians fighting the Civil War, a greaser Huck Finn, and hitting yourself in the head with a wrench out of bordeom. Set pre-novel this tells the story of a day at school for Soda...and the chaos that ensues.
1. Creative Writing

Hey guys! So this idea just hit me one day at school when I was having a very Soda-Day...So here it is! **This takes place a few months before the Curtis parents die and Soda's still in school**...and the chaos that ensues therein. Enjoy and REVIEW THE SECOND YOU'RE DONE!

Disclaimer: This is so annoying...what's the point? We all know we own nothing so it's stupid. Ok, just to make those of you out there searching for a fic without Disclaimer...I'm not S.E. Hinton. Oh darn.

~Rosey

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**First Hour: Creative Writing**

Sodapop Curtis hated school. His reason? He just didn't get it. He defined it as "dumb." His parents and brothers described it as "Doing his best, but just struggling."

He also hated it because it was boring...at least to someone who got drunk on just plain living. The only things he was good at were gym, automechanics, and girls (he was, after all, movie star, Greek God handsome.) Not only that, but he had to wear shoes all the time and couldn't color food purple or green. School. Was. Stupid.

So it was no suprise when he walked in ten minutes late to his first hour-Creative Writing.

"Sodapop Curtis you're late again. I hope you have a GOOD reason this time, not that you had to save an orphan monkey or stop a clown from holding up a bank," Mr. Stevens, the teacher, crossed his arms.

"Hey, this is creative writing. I thought we were supposed to come up with creative junk," Soda flopped into his seat, trying to ignore the stares he could feel drilling into him.

"Creative, yes. Absurd, no," Mr. Stevens raised an eyebrow. "We were just about to start free writing. Take out your notebooks and begin, please."

Soda rolled his eyes and grabbed his notebook full of half-hearted (and half-done) writing assignments and opened to a blank page. He pulled out a pencil and began.

_November Somethingth_

_Well it's a free write day and I have no idea what to write._

_Still have no idea._

_Still got nothing._

_Nopey-de-nopey-de-no._

_Ok, I'm bored now so I'm gonna write random stuff._

_I wonder if camel spit is sticky or slimy? Ooh I had green pancakes for breakfast even though my mom and dad told me no. Darry didn't eat them. Pony did. Darry eats a LOT though. Mom says it's cause he's a growin boy. I say he's just a pig. Oh and I had a dream last night that a clown on a giraffe kidnapped me! Then he took me behind a pyramid and he was going to sacrifice me to his clown buddies but Snow White saved me. Then the evil queen told me I was the fairest in the land and wanted to make me eat a poison apple but I said no. _

_Haha Two-Bit just came in later than I did. Teacher don't like either of us cause we're greasers, but we make fun of his dandruff behind his back so it's okay._

_Well I'm bored now so I'm gonna "go to the bathroom" now/hang out there until second hour. Bye._

_

* * *

_

Well? There's his first hour! So all I can say now is...

**REVIEWS WILL GET YOU SODA AND A PLATE OF PURPLE PANCAKES!**

~Rosey


	2. Gym

Hello, friends! Es moi! Ok so here's Soda's second hour: gym! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Uggg...you know what? No. Not gonna do it. Soda wouldn't.

~Rosey

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**Second Hour: Gym**

Soda smiled as he walked into the gym. Hey, this was a class he could do-and well. However, when he arrived, the coach told the boys to sit in the bleachers. Soda's heart sank. This couldn't be good.

"Men, due to the football game this Friday we are loaning the gym to the cheerleaders for practice," Coach Flamel announced.

"Yeah!" Two-Bit shouted from the back of the bleachers. Soda laughed as the other teen-age guys took up the shout and he joined in loudly. It took two minutes for the coach to shut them up.

"AND YOU ALL WILL BE DOING SIT-UPS IN THE CORNERS!" Coach Flamel shouted. "CURTIS! MATTHEWS! SOUTH WALL! GO!"

Soda and Two-Bit held back more laughter as they went over to the corner of the south wall. Two-Bit got on the ground and Soda held his feet, smiling wryly. "Let's see if you can get past ten this time, ok, buddy?"

"Aww shut up, man," Two-Bit chuckled.

Just then the cheer-leaders came in, giggling and chatting. The guys all whistled, recieving them a shout of anger from the coach. Soda only paid mild attention as Two-Bit struggled to do a sit-up, watching instead the cheer-leaders do flips and cheers. Less than one third of the girls paid attention to their routine, the others staring at the guys around them-mainly Soda himself who winked and waved to each girl in turn.

Suddenly, an oh-so-bright idea hit Sodapop like a ton of bricks. Smiling cynically, he yanked Two-Bit up out of a half-sit up and whispered his idea quickly to his friend. Two-Bit smiled, laughed, and nodded.

Making sure Coach Flamel wasn't looking, Soda and Two-Bit sneaked over to the basket of pom-poms against the wall. They then snuck up behind the cheer-leaders...

"READY?" Soda shouted, causing all cheering and sit ups to stop and all heads to turn to him.

"OK!" Two-Bit shouted back.

Then, in unison, they cheered: "WE LOVE CHEER YES WE DO! WE WANNA DATE EACH ONE OF YOU! YAY CHEER!" This was followed by pitiful flip and high-kick attempts, causing a mad fit of giggling and blushing and hard laughs from the guys.

The coach, on the other hand, didn't think it was so funny. "Just what do you think you're doing?" he shouted, yanking the pom-poms out of their hands.

"Supportin' the cheer squad," Soda beamed.

"You can 'support' them by running fifty laps around the gym."

"Uhh...I don't think I can count that high and I know he can't-"

"GO!"

* * *

Hehe that one was fun! Ok, so all I can say now is...

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**

~Rosey


	3. Zoology

Hey guys! I hope you're enjoying Soda's school day...and it only gets crazier as it goes on. Here's zoology...And frogs to dissect. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, ok? Happy? CAUSE I'M NOT!

~Rosey

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**Third Hour: Zoology**

"Class, we are dissecting frogs today," the monotone voice of Mrs. Drake rang out dully to her zoology class.

"But Mrs. Duck-" Soda began.

"Mr. Curtis, that's Mrs. _Drake_," the teacher corrected him.

"Yeah I know," Soda laughed.

"Sodapop Curtis, how do you think I want to be treated by my students?" she quizzed him monotonously.

"Like a princess," Soda beamed. "NO! Like a sport's car! NO NO! Like a princess IN a sport's car!" he grinned.

Mrs. Drake rolled her eyes, pointing for Soda to sit by Mary Smith. Soda sighed. Mary was one of the most...odd people in the school. When Soda sat by her, she grinned like an alligator, receiving a slightly freaked out smile in return.

"Ok class, I'm going to give each lab couple a frog in a jar of gas that will kill them to make them able to be dissected. Then you may remove them from the jar, lay them on the tray, and begin following the instructions on the board," Mrs. Drake instructed. She put a jar in front of Soda and Mary. That was when Mary started hyperventilating.

"What is it?" Soda asked with a sigh.

"The frog! It's trapped in there and it's going to die and then we're gonna cut it open!" she cried, tears falling hard.

"Mary, it's a frog!" Soda groaned.

"But don't you think it has a family out there? A wife and children?" she bawled.

"Not really. I don't think stuff like that about frogs. I think it's slimy and green, and should be dead already," he added, tapping the glass with his finger. "DIE ALREADY!"

"Soda! That's terrible! How are we going to know it's dead anyway? And not just stunned?"

"Well...we're gonna poke it," Soda replied decidedly.

"I'M NOT GOING TO POKE IT!" Mary cried.

"Ok then, I will," Soda amended. "I wish I had a stick, not a scientific metal thingy. It's more fun to poke things with a stick."

"SODA YOU CAN'T-"

That was when they heard a slight thump from inside the jar and they saw the frog laying there, dead as a doornail. "It's dead," Soda announced.

Then, as Mary began freaking out more, Soda addressed the teacher. "Hey can I just get out my switch-blade, cut it up into a few pieces, and say 'Oh that's the leg' and get an A?"

"Switch-blade?" Mrs. Drake for once didn't sound monotonous.

"Did I say my switch-blade? I meant Two-Bit Matthews. He's in Mr. Jones's class. Go bust 'im!" Soda lied quickly. The teacher glared at him and he sighed. _I hate school. Mainly zoology._

* * *

Well? This chapter was so much fun to write...I got the "Mrs. Duck" thing from my sister and the "princess in a sport's car" from this guy in my algebra class who, I swear, is Sodapop reincarnated. lol

So now all I can say is **REVIEW!**

~Rosey


	4. Auto Mechanics

Ok, this is the chapter I've been looking forward most to...Soda getting drunk on just plain living and the consequences. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I'll alert you if I start to own anything.

~Rosey

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**Fourth Hour: Auto-Mechanics**

Soda grinned as he walked into auto-mechanics. The only other class he was passing besides gym. But when he saw a lesson written on the board about the engine of a car, he groaned. Was the world against him today or something? He flopped into his chair and grabbed a wrench, hoping to find some amusement in it. Steve walked in and sat by Soda, both greasers complaining to each other that it was a lesson day.

Mr. Dawson came in, addressing the class. "Hello, everybody. As you all can tell today is a lesson day so pay attention. Today we're learning about the engine-"

Soda quit paying attention within a second, and the teacher's voice became a low buzz in his ears. He turned the wrench over and over in his hands, watching it glint in the fluorescent lighting. Suddenly he got a bright idea.

"Psst! Psst Steve!" he whispered.

"Yeah?" Steve replied in a low voice.

"I'm gonna see how hard I have to hit myself in the head with a wrench to knock myself out!" he beamed.

"Soda, I don't think that's such a good idea-"

_Thump!_

"Never mind."

"What happened?" Mr. Dawson ran over to where Soda now lay unconscious on the floor, a good-sized bruise forming on his forehead.

"Well, you were being boring so he hit himself in the head with a wrench to put himself out of the misery."

"Somebody call the nurse," Mr. Dawson demanded, mild hurt on his face and also more than slight amusement.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Soda blinked awake, his head pounding. "So that's how hard I can hit myself in the head with a wrench," he mused in his mild delirium. He glanced around himself and realized he was in the nurse's office laying on the cot-thingy with something cold on his head. It was then he realized exactly how dumb it was to hit himself in the head with a wrench.

Suddenly, Nurse Sally walked in, and smiled when she saw Soda was awake. "Well, look who decided to wake up," she beamed, patting his hand. "How do you feel, sweetie?"

"Stupid," Soda replied, trying to decide which of the three Nurse Sallys he saw before him he was addressing.

"Well you can stay in here until you feel up to going back to class. Fifth hour starts in fifteen minutes. Think you'll be okay by then?" she asked with a slight laugh at his previous answer.

"If I stop seeing three of you, yes ma'am," he nodded, but that hurt so he resorted to communicating verbally only.

"Would you like me to call your parents?" she asked gently.

"Nope. They told me to stop hurting myself out of bordeom. They won't approve of this little episode," he sighed.

"Don't you have a little brother who goes here?"

"Ponyboy, yup. And my older brother Darry graduated a few years ago. He's going to college soon," Soda explained.

"So you're name is Sodapop, your younger brother is Ponyboy, but your older brother is just Darry?" she raised an eye-brow.

"Yup. My parents must have known he'd be the boring one in the family," he smirked. What a great brother.

* * *

Hehehehehe that was my fave so far! And thanks to Dozer for correcting some of my word-choice in this chapter! Well now all I can say is

**-REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**

~Rosey**  
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	5. History

Hidey-ho! So here's fifth hour...in which cowboys and Indians fight over gas prices in the civil war. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own Soda...in my dreams. But as I am not dreaming at the moment, I own nothing! Not even the lyric line from Brad Paisley's "Letter to Me" you'll see in the second paragraph of this chappy. :)

~Rosey

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**Fifth Hour: History**

Soda sighed as he walked into history, his head still pounding from its encounter with the wrench. He hoped it would quit pounding before lunch, which was at the end of this hour, but he highly doubted it.

"Soda, what happened?" Mrs. Caymen gasped as he came in, still holding his head. Mrs. Caymen was the only teacher of a core subject that hadn't given up on him yet. It was like she saw the diamond underneath and was polishing him until he shone. But it was taking a long and hard time.

"I hit myself in the head with a wrench 'cause I was bored," Soda announced, sitting at his desk, ignoring the giggles from his classmates.

Mrs. Caymen bit her lip to stifle some giggles herself before facing Soda again. "Well we were just about to continue our discussion on the Civil War. Soda, can you tell us anything about this war?"

"Uhh...My kid brother read a book about it called _Gone With the Wind_," he answered, ducking his head. He knew she wanted him to succeed. But couldn't she see he didn't get it?

Mrs. Caymen smiled. "Very good, Soda. That book is indeed set during the Civil War. Did you read it?"

"Well, I tried to but the first two pages were boring so I stopped. Then I watched the movie but too many people died and I got depressed so I stopped watching it," he shrugged.

"Well, do you know the two sides who fought in the war?" she asked hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. She was a middle-aged woman, who sort of reminded Soda of his own mother. He bit his lip.

"Umm...well one side wore gray and the other side wore blue," he tried, remembering the movie vaguely.

"Yes!" Mrs. Caymen beamed. "And do you know the two sides?"

"Uhh...the cowboys and the Indians?" Soda tried.

"No," Mrs. Caymen breathed deeply. "The North and the South. Do you know what they were fighting over?"

"Err...gas prices?" Soda had a gut feeling it wasn't right but hey. Wasn't that what everybody was fighting about these days?

"N-no," Mrs. Caymen mumbled. She faced her class, forcing a smile. "They were fighting over slavery. Now as most of you know, slavery is the practice of-"

Soda sighed, sinking down further in his chair. Dang Civil War.

When the class was over, Mrs. Caymen called Soda over to her desk as the students began to file out. _Oh boy. This can't be good_, he thought as he approached the teacher.

"Yes ma'am?" he asked, looking down at his shoes.

"Soda, did you do the reading that was assigned for last night?" she asked, taking off her glasses and sitting them on the desk top.

"Well, a little bit," he mumbled, digging his toe into the ground.

"Well didn't you get it?" she tried to be gentle.

"Not really, ma'am," he admitted. "Darry tried to explain it to me and so did my parents but I guess it just kinda went over my head."

"Soda, you know any time you need help you can come ask me."

"Yes, ma'am. Can I go now?" he asked, praying the answer was yes.

"Yes you may. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

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Well? A wee bit of sweetness in this humor fic. Hope you enjoyed it! Now onto sixth hour!

**AND REVIEW BEFORE YOU GO!**

~Rosey


	6. Algebra

Heyy! Ok, so here's chapter six! Algebra...oy, my personal least favorite class. And Soda's. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I stinkin' don't own anything! *Stomps off in a pouty fit*

~Rosey

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**Sixth Hour: Algebra**

After a lunch full of a food-fight and other such chaos, Sodapop walked grudgingly into algebra class, his head still thumping with pain from his oh-so-bright idea during auto-mechanics. He plopped into his seat...and then groaned at the announcement on the board.

Test.

Today.

Twenty percent of your grade.

Soda groaned again and slammed his head onto his desk...which wasn't a good idea since he already had a bruise the size of a cantalope on his forehead. After using some selective vocabulary to express his pain, he quickly tried to remember anything about algebra he had learned in the past few weeks. Something about "A" being squared and equaling "B" squared? He sighed. If "A" was squared, it couldn't be the same thing as "B" being squared. They were two different letters. Everybody knew that. He quickly reached for his notes, tore them open, and moaned. He had written down the first part of an example problem and then had begun doodling. He sighed, shoving his pitiful attempt at notes aside. He was so dead.

Mr. King walked into the class room, his unibrow scowling. "Ok, class, today's the test over chapter five. Please get out your pencils and scratch paper," he instructed, passing out the tests down the rows. "No talking, cheating, laughing, crying, whispering, or whistling Elvis songs. I'm talking to you, Mr. Curtis," he glared over at Soda, who smirked before accepting the test he was handed and putting it on his desk. "You may begin," Mr. King demanded, sitting at his desk and began watching his class like a tiger watches its prey.

Soda took a deep breath and looked down at his paper. The first problem made his head throb so hard he had to squeeze his eyes tightly. Something about Bill's lumber yard selling five bundles of wood for twenty dollars and Jack's lumber selling ten bundles for thirty...He sighed, rubbing his head. Like he would ever really need any of this stuff in real life. Biting his lip, he began tapping the end of his pencil on the table. Just as he was about to turn the drumming of his pencil into a full fledged concert, the entire class "Shh!"ed him.

"Sorry," he whispered. He then absently began tapping his foot. He just couldn't keep still that long while concentrating on one thing-especially algebra.

"SHH!" the class hissed again.

"Sorry," he whispered again. But then "Jailhouse Rock" popped into his head. And he had to hum it. He just had to. When he reciveved another unanomous "Shh!" the teacher bolted up from his desk and approached the blonde greaser, his arms crossed.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked crossly.

"Yes, actually. The class is disrupting me with their 'Shh's!" Soda complained.

Mr. King only glared at him. Soda sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm goin'," he rolled his eyes, getting to his feet and grabbing his backpack, shoving it over his shoulder. He opened the door of the class room and then walked into the hall towards the office, ignoring the giggles he could hear coming from his algebra class.

When he arrived in the office, he found Two-Bit was also in there, sitting in a chair with his feet kicked up on a table.

"Hey, Two-Bit," Soda greeted his friend, sitting by him to wait for the principal to call him back.

"Hey, Soda. Test day?" the Mickey-Mouse shirted boy asked, raising an eye-brow.

"Yup. Algebra. The class was being disruptive so I was sent to the office," Soda chuckled. "What are you in for?"

"Ehh, I had nothing better to do," Two-Bit shrugged.

Soda laughed. School wasn't so bad when you had your friends.

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Hehehe Algebra is my least favorite subject, so this was oober easy to write. lol

Well now all I can say is **REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! **And then on to English class! :)

~Rosey


	7. English

Hey guys! So Soda's had a long hard day...and I've enjoyed writing every second of it! So here's his last hour and our last chapter...English class. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Ok, I've run out of witty stuff to put here. I own nothing. S.E. Hinton created all of these wonderful characters and Rob Lowe made Soda come to life in the movie. I am not in any way a part of "The Outsiders" creation...I just make the legend live on in fics! :)

~Rosey

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**Seventh Hour: English Class**

Last hour was like a breath of fresh air to Sodapop. After getting out of the office with just a warning, he was feeling pretty good about himself. When he arrived in the classroom, he took his seat and threw his backpack by his chair. Just one more hour and school would be over...until tomorrow.

Ms. Cole walked into the classroom, smiling to her students. "Good afternoon, class. Today we're continuing our reading of _Huckleberry Finn_. If everybody would please get the copy that's under your desks and open them to chapter four."

Soda sighed and grabbed the book from under his desk and flipped to the assigned page. Then Ms. Cole turned to him. "Soda, would you please read aloud for us?"

Soda groaned. "Well I reckon I can but it ain't like I-"

"Soda that's terrible grammar," she scolded gently. "Just read aloud, please."

Soda sighed and began. "_Well, three or four months run along, and it was well into the winter now. I had been to school most all the time and could spell and read and write just a little, and could say the multiplication table up to six times seven is thirty-five, and I don't reckon I could ever get any further than that if I was to live forever. I don't take no stock in mathematics, any-way_." Soda stopped and then looked over at the teacher. "I coulda written this! This kid don't have any better grammar then I do! And he has the same views on school too, ya dig?" he added with a smirk.

"Well Huckleberry was like the greaser of his time," Ms. Cole smiled.

Soda was baffled. "Really? Well dang it this book ain't so bad! Could I check it out and finish it at home?"

The room went dead silent.

Ms. Cole stood there, stunned, for a moment before stepping over to Soda, putting a hand on his forehead. "Soda, you are a little warm, maybe you should go to the nurse's office."

"What?" Soda raised an eye-brow. "No, I'm fine-"

"And you did hit your head earlier, didn't you?" Ms. Cole continued, shock still on her face. "I definitely think you should go to the nurse's office."

"No, I'm fine!" Soda insisted. "I just wanna check out this darn book!"

"Oh, Sodapop, you better go to the nurse's office right now," she insisted. "You must have hit your head harder than you thought."

Soda sighed, grabbed his backpack, and slung it over his shoulder. "I swear I'm in the office so much I'll be on a first-name basis with the secretary before Friday."

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Soda! Honey, why are you home so early?" Mrs. Curtis greeted her son as he walked into the house fifteen minutes before his school even let out.

"Well, I-"

"Oh! Sodapop what happened to your head?" she gasped, seeing the bruise on his forehead. She hurried over to him, examining the injury.

"Well, I was bored in auto mechanics so I decided to see how hard I could hit myself in the head with a wrench without knocking myself out," he mumbled, crossing his arms. "Turns out I don't know my own strength."

"Wait, so you've been unconcious all day and they didn't call me?" she gasped, motherly worry covering her face.

"No, I went back to class after I woke up. They sent me home 'cause I asked to check out a book," Soda explained.

Mrs. Curtis reacted just like Ms. Cole had, standing there stunned for a moment before putting a hand on her son's forehead. "Sweetie, why don't you go lay down."

"No, Mom, I'm fi-"

"No, honey, I insist. Don't strain yourself," she gently pushed him into his room. "Just lay still for a while, okay?"

Soda groaned and flopped onto his bed. Minutes later, he heard Darry come home from his day-job. He listened to the conversation between his mom and brother from his room.

"Darry, Soda's home early. He asked to check out a book," Mrs. Curtis told her older son.

"What? Do I need to take him to the hospital?" Darry was being serious.

Soda sighed. Was he really that dumb? That him asking to check out a book was like the world ending? Even his family seemed to think that. He rolled over on his side and looked at his back pack that lay by his door. He bit his lip. That was the first time dropping out crossed his mind.

The End

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Well? I hope you all liked it! Poor Soda...thinking he's dumb...*Glomp hugs Soda*

Well all I can say now is **REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW OR I SHALL SIC A SUNSET CRAZED PONYBOY ON YOU! **

~Rosey


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